we were two
hands wound
tight as we got
our first tattoos

and last week i
was the arm
stained with
your tears

(the last time i remember
seeing you cry was the
night last summer when i told
you i was planning to die
and you told me it was
selfish but you needed me)

it's not selfish to need
someone its selfish to
think you're strong enough
to make it all alone

you
are
strong
oh you
are so
strong

but sometimes we need
someone to give permission
to let us be weak and i know
that for you i am that someone
and for me you
are that someone

yet i'm sorry that i am
not always so strong

(and now comes the point
in the poem where i feel
guilty for a few stanzas
but we both already know
that part by heart so
this time i'll skip it)

a long time ago you
fell off the face of
the earth and i still
don't exactly know where
you went but there are parts
to every long and somewhat
dark story that eventually
become so hazed over with
dust and grime it's better to
forget them entirely

but i wrote you a letter
and i don't remember
what i wrote and i don't
know if it changed anything

but i know after that
you came back and
i don't know much
but i know maybe

you didn't need me
to have the answers
you just needed me
to be out there somewhere

i can't promise you
perfection or
good advice or
stability or
anything helpful
like that

but that's okay
because i'm human
and i can't promise you
i won't cry but i
promise you i'm not
going anywhere

our relationship
lasts because
it is both
selfish and selfless

(you told me asking
someone having a
panic attack to "breathe
for me" triggers guilt
which causes them to
be willing to do it
for the other person
i know it works because
you've walked me out of
enough panic attacks
and because sometimes
i'm over here staying
alive because i know you
need me to which is probably
selfish for both of us but
it's working so hey)

and staying alive is
the hardest and in the end
most selfish thing
i've ever done but
for you i'll try.

In the quantum realm of my reality
I designed a mathematically beautiful fantasy

An illusiory of science and dark alliances
A mystical act of a forgotten godlessness

I was deprived from my own health
I genusly fabricated my own death

But before i enter the hole
I have two wishes, in it you will take a role

A candle for me when i go
A requiem for my dreams and my soul


Words Of Harfouchism

Inhale, exhale, okay!
All good here today,
Everything will turn out okay,
God holds the world in His hands today!

Caffeine, oh won't you
awake me as you always do?
Even with effects circulating
and my mind over-contemplating,
I'll ask you to be my next move,
a mistake I won't need to soothe,
lungs taking deeper breaths,
bringing all distress to sudden death;
A bundle of rawness I inhale,
A bundle of vulnerability I exhale.

As I lie in bed writing this I feel an overbearing sense of nothingness, emptiness.. void of any emotion when normally I would.

Writing to me was therapeutic, calming progressive for me. But now..it's lost it's edge. I no longer feel creative, the desire to pick up the pen is gone and I'm back to square one. This was the one thing I was good at.

My fix wasn't taking drugs or getting drunk. It was pouring my soul into my work...and now....

It's gone...I don't know what to do.

I'm literally at a

loss

for....

There is no upward mobility
Here in America
Poor is poor

And you'll stay that way

Who wants to work
A 50 hour work week
For a lousy 25 grand a year?

Not me

I won't be used by some system

When my parents die
I'll inherit their home

I'm sure many other
30 somethings
Have the same plan
Here in America

The Tao is misunderstood
And the loving man
The gentle man is despised

I dislike mainstream American culture
At times